


Elsewhere

by elisetales



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Triggers, Unrequited Love, sad cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Deimos won't stop hurting himself, Cain takes matters into his own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elsewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arynbatoost](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=arynbatoost).



> A follow-up ficlet to Arynbatoost's gift-fic for me on Tumblr, which you can read here.

"I said fucking  _eat_." Cain pushed a plate of steaming food in front of him and Deimos looked down at it, stomach roiling in protest. He picked up his fork, mindful of Cain's watchful glare, and hesitantly pushed at the food.

There was too much of it, no way he could finish it off like Cain expected him to, but he was sure he could manage a mouthful or two at the least, just to get Cain off his back for the night.

"Tch. You gonna fucking eat that, or just play with it?"

Deimos flinched and dropped his fork, fingers numb and trembling, and Cain swore at him under his breath, pushed his own plate away and knocked Deimos on the shoulder as he stood. 

"You know what? Fuck you," he spat, zipping up his jacket while the rest of the fighters at the table fell silent and stared at them. "Starve until it kills you, you selfish little bitch." He left before Deimos could plead with him to give him another chance, before he could promise he'd do better if only Cain waited a while. 

But that'd just be another lie. Deimos couldn't do better for him, not even if Cain waited forever. Deimos didn't want to change and couldn't. His body was the one thing he still had control over in a place where he controlled little else: not his time, when he showered, how long he slept, or even the clothes on his back. Everything he was had been given over to the Alliance the day he'd enlisted. 

But they couldn't make him eat if he didn't want to.

Cain couldn't either.

* * *

The next day all was forgiven, at least on Cain's end. If he remembered what he'd said the night before he didn't show it, just slung an arm round Deimos' shoulders in the lift and dragged lazily on a cigarette until Encke's second-in-command ordered him to put it the fuck out.

But forgiving and forgetting had always been Cain's way. He forgot the things he said from one day to the next and rarely held a grudge, at least not where Deimos was concerned. Deimos had learned to forgive him too, even for the things that were unforgivable. Cain didn't mean to hurt him, just didn't know how else to treat somebody when no one had ever done right by him. 

"You eat something this morning?" Cain asked, loud enough that everyone heard. Deimos nodded and Cain mussed his hair. "Good."

But he hadn't eaten for days, and keeping up appearances was getting harder as time dragged on. His head was foggy during PT, limbs aching and sluggish as he struggled to bear his own weight. He collapsed after his tenth push-up, unable to keep fighting anymore, skin clammy and heart thumping unevenly, breath coming in shallow little bursts.

Cain lost it after that, left him lying there on his back and punched the first fighter who put a foot near Deimos to help. Encke ended up dragging Cain off by the back of the shirt, shoving him out into the corridor, and the pair of them didn't reappear for nearly twenty minutes.

Deimos let Praxis lead him over to the bench, accepted a bottle of water from him and waited, his heart in his throat, for Cain to come back. It was his fault Cain was in trouble again, probably out there getting his ass handed to him by Encke. Deimos didn't think Cain was going to forgive and forget this time. Deimos had told him too many lies. 

When Cain returned he was alone; quiet, pale and subdued. He sat down on the bench next to Deimos and hung his head, staring down at his hands.

"Cain..." Deimos began.

Cain shook his head. "Don't."

"Cain, I'm--"

A dark shadow fell across them and Deimos looked up. Encke was standing over them now, arms crossed over his wide chest. "Get up, fighter, you're coming with me."

Deimos blinked and glanced back at Cain for answers. Cain wouldn't meet his eyes though, just sat there looking guilty and staring down at his hands. Deimos wanted to punch him for the first time since he’d known him.

Cain had sold him out to the lead fucking fighter, knowing full well what a sick and useless body meant to the Alliance: nothing, just a one way ticket back to the colonies.

" _Mudak_ ," Deimos said in a shaky voice as he got to his feet. Cain didn't bat an eyelid at the insult, the first one Deimos had ever hurled at him, just sat there grinding his jaw and looking surly.

Deimos followed Encke out into the corridor on unsteady feet, dozens of pairs of eyes following them as they went.

* * *

It was quiet in the lift.

Deimos watched Encke from the corner of his eye, full of unlocalized fear. He didn’t trust Encke—didn’t trust anyone who’d made lead fighter at just twenty-four—and had never been alone with him until today. Now the fucker was going to write him up for discharge for being weak, a liability, and Deimos had Cain to thank for all of it.

He could have lied, like Deimos would have done for him, like Deimos _had_ done for him, only he hadn’t. He’d told Encke everything, hung Deimos out to dry, and Deimos could tell it by Encke’s silence.

He took a shuddery breath and stepped closer to Encke, top of his head reaching only partway up Encke’s arm. The man was huge and physically imposing, capable of breaking Deimos in two if he ever saw fit, but Deimos didn’t have it in him to be afraid right now; no time for that.

Encke had the power to send him home or let him stay, and Deimos knew what he had to do if he wanted to stay. He was out of options now, and begging wasn’t going to cut it. There was a currency to all things, and the only one that was worth a damn out here was sucking dick. Cain had taught him that much.

Deimos dropped to his knees in front of Encke and reached for Encke's belt, fumbling with the clip as he stared up at him.

“What do you think you're doing?” Encke didn't stop him, just watched him, green eyes narrowed to slits. 

“You want something else?” Deimos whispered, voice raspy and throat still sore from dry-heaving that morning. 

Encke just stared down at him with something that looked a lot like pity. “Get up, kid, I ain’t gonna fuck you.”

Deimos would have preferred it if Encke had just hit him.

* * *

Cain was waiting outside his room that night when Deimos finally got discharged from the medical bay, leaning on one shoulder against the wall and smoking, biting his nails. He stood up straight when he saw Deimos and narrowed his eyes at him, looked him over up and down. “What the fuck happened? You've been gone for hours.”

Deimos pushed past him without a word and keyed open the door, Cain following him inside his empty room uninvited.

“You fucking deaf now, too?” Cain growled, shadowing Deimos as he made his way over to his bed. “I said what the _fuck_ happened?”

“Leave me alone,” Deimos muttered and sat down on the edge of the mattress, carefully peeling off his jacket and kicking off his boots.

Cain’s silence was deafening. 

"You're pissed," he said finally.

Deimos didn't answer him.  

“Fuck, Deimos, this isn't about us." Cain sat down on the bed beside him and rubbed a hand over his face. “You think I told him just to fuck with you or something? It wasn't like that.”

“He could have sent me home,” Deimos reminded him.

“Well what the fuck else was I supposed to do?" Cain snapped. "You’re gonna die out here if you don’t start eating. That what you want, is it?”

“Better here than there.”

“Fuck you.”

It was silent for a while before Cain asked, “Well are they sending you back or not?” He was agitated now, fidgeting.

“Not,” Deimos answered quietly. He picked at a loose thread on his pants and added, “They’ve taken me off active duty, though. Not allowed back on rotation ‘til I’ve put some weight on.”

“Good. How much?”

“Ten pounds.”

“Tch. More like twenty.”

Cain shifted closer on the mattress and Deimos leaned into his warmth, couldn't help it. He kept his hands on his lap but was desperate to be touched, to feel hands on his skin again. He knew it was too much to hope for that Cain might hold him like he'd done a few nights back. 

Cain looked like he didn't quite know what to do or say, just stared and leaned into Deimos instead, so close now they were nearly nose to nose. Unsettled, Deimos drew back from him and Cain scowled. "Suit your fucking self." He was slightly pink in the cheeks, and Deimos wondered if Cain hadn't meant to kiss him.

Deimos had nothing left to lose. He kissed Cain first, a quick press of lips on lips, quickly pulling back before Cain could push him away. Cain didn't though, just took Deimos' face between his hands and said, "You're so fucking cold." He brushed a rough thumb back and forth over Deimos' lips before Deimos could answer him and added, "And still blue. They make you eat something up there, or what?" Deimos nodded, could still taste the powdery supplement they'd force-fed him on his tongue. 

Cain pushed his palm into the center of Deimos' chest, urging him to lie down on his back. Cain didn't try to kiss him again, had only done it in the first place because it was easier than saying something nice, just lay down beside Deimos with an arm over his belly, fingers pressed deep into the bony jut of Deimos' hip as he pulled their bodies together.

He was so warm. Deimos curled his fingers round Cain's strong forearm, wanting to kiss again but knowing Cain wouldn't, and released a shuddery breath when Cain slipped a hand beneath his t-shirt, skimming it up his back and over the bony nubs of his spine, pulling Deimos hard against his chest. "You do everything they tell you to do, you got it?" he murmured against the top of Deimos' head. "You're not leaving here without me. We came together, we go together."

"I won't go without you," Deimos whispered back. _Not if you don't let them take me._ He pressed his face into Cain's neck and closed his eyes, breathing deep and letting Cain crush him tight against his body until they both fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Mudak -- roughly translated means 'prick' or 'asshole' in Russian. At least that's what Google tells me.


End file.
